


There is only going forward

by youllalwaysfitinwithme



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, rated teen and up for references to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7411069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youllalwaysfitinwithme/pseuds/youllalwaysfitinwithme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy stumbles upon Clarke in the woods. Deep conversations and a lot of touching ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is only going forward

 

The forest was overwhelmingly quiet that early in the morning. Bellamy had grown fond of that exact time of day, just when the sun shone brightly through the branches of countless trees and there was no trace of life in the woods. 

He had made a habit of those morning walks when they made it back to Arkadia two weeks ago. Life at Arkadia could get stressful, specially with what they knew. The clock was ticking, time was running against them, and they still had no clue about what to do. They had examined possibilities, like an exodus or suicidal missions to try and fix some of the nuclear plants; but they were just possibilities, no move had been made since they had no clue where to go, or how to solve this impossible situation. 

Yes, life at Arkadia was indeed stressful, and with this new threat on the horizon, Bellamy wanted to make the most of his time on the ground. 

It wasn't that he had lost faith, or didn't want to fight anymore for their survival; _hell_ , he'd go and turn off those reactors himself if he knew how to do it. No, it wasn't that Bellamy had given up on life, it was quite the opposite. Just for once, he wanted to appreciate Earth. Enjoy it. The place had been a living nightmare since they openned the dropship gate and inhaled fresh air for the first time. He had never felt fond of the planet, it almost felt like it had made it its mission to make them suffer. 

But that changed when he first wandered alone in the forest and let himself feel his surroundings. 

One morning, instead of going to sleep after his night shift, he decided to go for a walk -although sometimes it felt like he hadn't decided that out of nowhere, sometimes it felt like the forest drew him in. However it was, Bellamy found himself marvelled by the place, its quietness, its peace. He almost felt connected to the ground when he laid down and rested, looking up at the branches and the morning light slipping through. It was soothing, and it made him feel better somehow, despite it all.

Bellamy just wanted to enjoy those moments of quietness between one threat and the other. 

But that day, when he wandered through his usual path, he came across someone. It was a girl sitting on a fallen trunk. He could only see her back, and the blonde hair that adorned the ground all around her. 

"Clarke?" He asked so quietly, she could've as well not heard it. 

But she did, and she got up startled by his presence, a cracked mirror in one hand, a knife in the other. Bellamy's eyes widened, his mouth partially open. "What have you done Clarke?"

Clarke dropped the knife and run her freed hand through her now short hair. It was messily cut in different places, the shortest of locks fell against her neck, while the longest reached her shoulders. "I cut my hair" she answered, as if it wasn't obvious. Bellamy got closer, there was something off about her voice...and then he noticed the redness in her eyes.

"You've been crying?" Clarke just nodded and returned to her seat on the trunk, turning the mirror over in her hands. He rushed to seat beside her, that constant urge to comfort her pulling him too close. "What is it?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence as Clarke searched for the words, the smell of pine surrounding them, merging with their own scents of sweat and smoke.

"It feels like I've been living on a grounder armor for far too long" she began, her voice unsteady. Bellamy placed a caring hand on her knee as she spoke, "When I was in the City of Light, you know what I saw?"

"Whatever it was, it wasn't real," he said firmly, fearing for her. Those who had been to the City of Light, had returned a mess; reality hit them so harshly that some hadn't been able to get past it. Five had been buried so far, and although he knew Clarke was strong, Bellamy needed to make sure her thoughts wouldn't drift too close to that place. "The City of Light was an empty promise, Clarke."

"I know, but this one part wasn't," she looked right into his eyes in reaffirmation, and he felt in a familiar place looking right into hers. It felt comfortable, natural. "When you went into the City of Light, you saw yourself as you would have liked to be," Clarke continued. "It was part of the trick, making you feel comfortable in there."

"And you didn't see this" he guessed, running his eyes along her clothes and hair -she was still wearing some grounder garments, as they were short on their usual clothes. Clarke nodded, her lips pursed.

"I saw me the way I landed on Earth, before all of this." She gestured to her foreign clothes, but Bellamy saw a different meaning: before the suffering, before the losses, before the pain. Before all of the impossible decisions. 

Bellamy thought he would like to see that version of himself again too. He nodded in understanding. 

Clarke shifted her eyes toward the trees among them. "Since I saw that Clarke, I've had a hard time feeling comfortable in this skin."

"You're still the same Clarke." He assured her.  "You've grown, we all have; but who we are, and who we need to be to survive, are different things, remember?"

He didn't know about her, but he _did_ remember. Bellamy remembered the look of horror in her eyes after torturing Lincoln. He remembered that same look in Mount Weather, and later, when she left. He remembered it even back in the throne room, when she came back from the City of Light. Guilt. The deep feeling of a heavy heart whenever she took a tough turn. It had been Clarke all along, Earth hadn't taken that from her. She still cared, everytime; she was so much more than what she needed to be to survive. 

Bellamy still saw the same girl, even if sometimes she couldn't see it herself.

"But we're always trying to survive," Clarke replied with a sad smile, her brow furrowed, "I can't separate those two persons anymore."

Bellamy didn't have an answer for that, so he just grabbed her hands in his and gave her a knowing look.

"Well, I know that you don't need a haircut for that. You are you, Clarke; it doesn't matter what you look like."

"I thought it would help." Clarke run her hand through her uneven locks, a resigned expression replacing the worry in her face. "And now I look like an idiot who messed up her hair."

Bellamy smiled. "It's not that bad. I can fix it if you want."

Clarke shot him an offended look, "Fix it? You just said it wasn't that bad." Bellamy chuckled, one of his hands leaving hers and reaching for her longer locks.

"Well, it isn't that bad if you don't get any help. But you've got me, and I certainly won't make it any worse."

_You've got me_. He really meant that. 

Clarke shook her head and reached for the knife on the ground. Once Bellamy was holding it, she warned him: "Don't leave it too short."

"It's already too short in some places," he told her, running a hand through her hair. He felt Clarke shiver at his touch. Bellamy cleared his throat, suddenly too much aware of the physical contact and how intimate it felt. "I'll just make it even."

Clarke just nodded in responde, and Bellamy began cutting the longer strands. He could sense how nervous Clarke was, her shoulders all squared, her fingers tapping at her knee. He tried to be as fast as possible, but it wasn't an easy task cutting hair with a knife, let alone cutting it to make it look good. As he worked, there were no words between them, and for Bellamy, that felt just right. It felt like it did during his walks alone in nature, connecting with something. This wasn't so different. 

By the time he was finished, Bellamy dropped the knife on the trunk and carefully, passed his hand through her neck and shoulders to get rid of the rests of hair. The result was shorter than he'd expected, Clarke's hair barely covering half of her neck. She was looking at him expectantly as he walked to get in front of her, strands of blonde hair curling to adapt to her jawline.

"How is it?" she asked. Bellamy couldn't help but reach for the loose strands over her face and place them gently behind her ear. Clarke stared at him attentive as he did so. His lips curled into a half smile.

"Wow. You look just like someone I know" he joked, and she rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a smile from taking over her. Bellamy offered the tiny cracked mirror. "See for yourself."

Bellamy watched as she stared into the mirror, her fingers tugging at locks of hair, her mouth partially open. "It's not bad" she concluded, but changed her statement at Bellamy's risen eyebrow, "Okay, yes, it is good. You made a good job. Thank you."

They stared at each other for a little too long after that, eyes fixed on the other's as their smiles faded. This time, it was Clarke who reached for his hair, her hand running confindent through his curls, but she wasn't examining them, she was still looking into his eyes. Bellamy didn't notice, but he was holding his breath. He didn't notice when he licked his lower lip either, but Clarke did. Then she said, "You need a haircut too." It was barely a whisper, so Clarke cleared her throat and then picked up the knife. "Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing towards his head. 

Bellamy shook his head as if to wake up, and then nodded at her question. He couldn't mutter a word, something felt too heavy on his chest to even talk. He just sat on the ground in front of Clarke and closed his eyes when her hand was back on his tangled hair. He barely noticed anything else, Clarke's presence was taking over all of his senses; her hands tugging at his hair, the smell of her all around him, her soothing breathing, the only thing his ears catched. Her taste was the only thing unknown to him, but it didn't matter. He had come to realise over time that the rest of her was enough; he didn't need it all if she couldn't give it to him. It was okay, he understood. 

He couldn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly Clarke cleared her throat and called his name. He openned his eyes and saw her smile. "It's done" she said, but Bellamy didn't respond. Instead of reaching for the mirror, Clarke reached for the curls framing his face, and then slid her hand down to his jaw in a tender caress. Everything was quiet for a moment. Bellamy couldn't stand the proximity, so he closed his eyes again, his throat dry as ever. 

Then he felt it on his lips;  _hers_. 

It was barely a kiss, rather a stroke. Bellamy's eyes snapped open to find that Clarke's were closed, her brow furrowed as she brushed her lips over his slowly, as if asking for permission. As if she was holding back too. He gently brushed her cheek with his fingers, and it felt like in that exact moment, all of their barriers were smashed to the ground. It felt like, through their touches, they were talking, and Bellamy understood perfectly what she was saying: I can't lose you. I need you. I want you. 

And then their mouths welcomed the other in an agonizingly gentle kiss. There was no holding back then; there was no turning back from there. 

There was only going forward. There was one more reason to keep fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written based on a prompt.   
> I think the anon who sent it was expecting something lighter or maybe funny, but this is what came out, and I am both nervous and happy about it. (I just wrote my first Bellarke kiss, this is actually important stuff!!!)  
> You can find me on tumblr as secretpeachmoon, I post these over there too.  
> That said, hope you enjoyed. Share your thoughts if you'd like! ;)


End file.
